Instructions: Keep it clean. No real names. My advice is to stick with the plot diagram we discussed (short story elements handout). Activating Circumstance, Rising Action, Climax, Denouement. Consider starting with Setting (time, place). You may write as much as you want, but remember it may be subsequently edited for grammar, fluency and cohesiveness.
It was a drizzling, wet night for the border guards at the Mexican-US border. Most of the other patrol guards were sleeping comfortably in their dorms, but Pablo Comocho was wide awake for his night shift. He was a man of Mexican descent; however, during the Mexican-American war, his ancestors found themselves in the U.S. and decided to settle down in California. This is why Pablo's mother was American; his dad, Mexican. His parents met at a restaurant called Las Magaritas in Los Angeles where his father had worked as a waiter. They later on got married and moved to San Diego where Pablo's father worked in the restaurant industry. As a child, Pablo was fascinated by the Mexican-US border, and his dream was to become a border guard when he grew up. Now that his dream had been realized, he has started to seriously regret thinking that this would be a good job as he struggles to support his wife and son.
"Low pay and long work hours," Pablo thought miserably. "The only reason I risk my life everyday to transport the goods across the border is the 10,000 dollars I get to support my family."
Six months ago, a Mexican drug cartel leader contacted him and asked if he wanted to help them smuggle crates of marijuana and other drugs across the border. Pablo agreed on the terms that he gets 10,000 dollars for every time he succeeds in smuggling the drugs. "Come to the underground shack two kilometers from the border every time you get a call from this number," the cartel leader had told him a few days ago. "And make sure you aren't followed."
Pablo made his way into his black, four wheel-drive land-rover in the garage and started the engine. Then, he got off and walked around for ten minutes to make sure no one was around. When Pablo knew that the coast was clear, he jumped back into the car and drove off into the Mexican desert. After a few minutes, he arrived at the rocky hill that was the landmark for the drug shack. He got off and walked to the hidden manhole cover and crept down the ladder. Inside the tiny, six by five meters room, two boxes were stacked neatly on top of each other. On one of the boxes, some white powdery stuff had fallen out. "Coke this time, eh," Pablo remarked to himself. On the table, a post-it note was stuck on a large wad of cash. "Good luck :)" it said. "Yeah, I'll need it," Pablo thought. He quickly transported the two crates out onto his car and came back into the shack for his money. As he pulled off the post-it note, something on the back caught his eye. "You are no longer trustworthy, we do not need you any longer."
Suddenly, he heard the sound of helicopter blades in the distance, getting louder and louder. Pablo's blood turned to ice, but he knew he had to move, to run, or he would be caught by the people coming to arrest him. As fast as a cheetah, he zoomed up the ladder, no longer caring about his money, and rushed to his car. He pushed the two boxes out of the trunk and drove as fast as he could, stomping on the gas and into the Chihuahuan desert. "I can't be caught, my family needs me," he said to himself. "I can't be caught and sent to the Pavon Prison!"
Speeding along the barren land, Pablo glanced at his rearview mirror and spotted a black SUV tailing him in the distance. However, this car didn't look like a police car. And why would the police bother chasing him in a car when they had helicopters searching for him? He eased the pressure on the gas pedal and let the other car catch up. When the car finally caught up, the driver rolled down his window.
"My boss wanted to dispose you, but I thought otherwise," the driver said. "You have talent." Pablo tried to get a closer look at the driver, but the man’s face was covered with a black bandanna. The driver continued introducing himself, “The name’s Sanchez, Diego Jo-” A shattering noise close by interrupted their conversation. As Pablo ducked inside his car to safety, the Mexican driver drove off. Pablo looked into his rearview mirror and saw a crimson splat on the other car's windshield.
Pablo panicked. As he glanced at his rapidly dropping gas meter, he hastily pulled out his SWAT mini-k from under the driver's seat. Letting his car slowly roll to a stop, Pablo stepped out of his car and pointed the gun to his forehead.
"Don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Don't touch me. Don't even think about it." Pablo spat out, "Or I will shoot myself."
When the car approached from the distance, it started to slow down. Pablo was sweating hard, not knowing what to do. There were so many things racing through his head at once: his family, the gun, the dropping gas meter, and so on. Eventually, the car came to a stop, and the door slowly opened. Pablo wasn't able to stand still. Against his will, his feet did a little hop as if the ground was a bit too hot for him to stand on. His two fingers were frozen on the lever, hesitating and numb from fear. Suddenly, a man in a silver suit, with thick dark eyebrows, and dark curly hair got out and stood in front of him in silence. Pablo didn't realize that the helicopter had disappeared and was nowhere to be seen. The man in the silver suit reached out his hand, and spoke in a deep husky voice. "Impressive. You could've given up, and spoken the truth, but you refused. I was testing you to see if you could be trusted, and you've just showed me that you are trustworthy. I am the boss. Name's Carlos, James Carlos." Slowly, but steadily, Pablo lowered his gun and shook James's hand.
After this little "test" from Carlos, Pablo had gained the trust of the drug dealers. Now he was getting $20,000 dollars for each trade he made. His wife was curious at first about how he was getting so much money in such a short period of time, but when Pablo told her that he got a raise, she happily believed him.
Pablo was no longer worried about money anymore, and an idea had started to form in his head. 'Why can't I be the Boss," he thought, "I don't want to work for others anymore." However, he continued to work for Carlos, but with an eye open for any chance to take over.
About a month later, his opportunity came. Carlos had told him to deliver ten boxes of coke from Mexico to USA. Since this was a big deal, Carlos decided to stay with Pablo. On their way, Pablo took out his Glock18 and shot Carlos. He then hastily buried Carlos' body in the desert and took off with the coke.
Two days later, Carlos' dead body was found in the desert. The police confirmed that Carlos was the criminal they had been searching for over the past nine years. They were suspicious of his death and knew that it was not suicidal. At first, they thought that Carlos was murdered by enemy drug dealers, but they later reasoned that a professional drug dealer would have at least buried the dead body deep enough so that no one would see it. They also thought that Carlos would have been well protected and would not have exposed himself to such dangerous people. Thus, they came to the conclusion that the murderer had to be an amateur and a well trusted companion of Carlos. However, since no evidence was found, the police were forced to temporally discontinue their investigation.
- Seven Years Later-
Seven years have passed since the death of Carlos and the police have not found any more clues regarding this murder case.
For Pablo, life was good. He had been dealing drugs for the past seven years and his earnings were increasing each year. His business was successful and he was greatly satisfied. Everything was going great until the day everything messed up.
It was just another ordinary business day and Pablo had hired a few trusted assistants to do his work. Out of these assistants, one bright and young man stood out. His name was Jose.
Pablo regarded Jose as his right man. Jose always seemed to know what Pablo was thinking and wanted. He was also loyal and faithful; during one of their many gang fights, Jose had taken a bullet for Pablo, thus gaining his respect and unwavering trust.
However, since the morning, Pablo had been noticing Jose's unrest. Nevertheless, Pablo decided it was nothing and took no action.
After lunch, Pablo received a call from his wife. "Pablo, this morning a man knocked on our door and our son accidentally opened it. The man gave him a creepy looking clown puppet and there was a message on the back that said: 'You will get your revenge one day'. What does it mean? Darling, what happened? Please tell me!"
“Wait, what?” Pablo suddenly felt a cold sweat break out all over his body. He swallowed nervously and forced himself to calmly reply, "Oh don't worry honey, nothing's wrong. It's probably just someone's sick, annoying joke. "
"Pablo dear, you're hesitating. Please, don't hold back and tell me what's really going on! Tell me everything you've been hiding from me! There's no reason why a stranger would knock on our door and give our son a strange looking doll with a threatening message on the back! Something is definitely wrong! If you don't want to spill, then please-just don't get our innocent son hurt!" Ms. Comocho's voice broke at the end of the sentence and Pablo could hear the despair his wife was feeling.
Pablo's mind raced, trying to think of an excuse. He took a deep breath and replied, "Everything is fine, please don't overreact. I'm done talking about this." Pablo hung up the phone and sat back down with an anguished sigh. Who would do such a thing and what was their motive? He was certain that it had something to do with Carlos, but that was seven years ago. So why now?
Pablo took the pistol that had killed Carlos several years ago from his desk. Tucking the weapon in his belt, he looked around with an angry glint in his eyes. Whoever this person was or wanted, Pablo was determined to stop his family from getting involved or worse, hurt.
Pablo quickly returned home, planning to carefully assess the puppet for himself. When he got home, he found the door wide open. With bad premonition, he rushed into the house, frantically searching every room and found no one in the house. His heart thumping, Pablo went back out and took a deep breath. "Calm down," he said to himself. "There is no evidence of a struggle and no bloodstains around here. They just need something from me and that's all.”
He sat down on the couch, facing the kitchen. People were probably dragged around, taken against their will, but everything was left untouched, or so Pablo thought. The only unusual thing was the door, it was open; and of course, his family was gone. He couldn't help but wonder: What did they want? Did they want his life, revenge for his responsibility of Carlos's end? Or was it just another drug cartel, wanting to take Pablo down? Then Jose came to his mind. He remembered him being uneasy about something, but what? He didn't know. He tried to find a connection between Jose's loyalty (or fake loyalty) and the kidnapping of his family. He kept thinking until a sudden bang on the window awoke him from his trance. He quickly turned and saw a hooded figure running from the window. Jumping from the couch, he rushed across the room to the window. The sight before him made him want to hurl. A clown puppet, smeared with blood was slowly slide down the window and fell to the ground with a thump. Pablo ran out of the house to get a better look at it. As he got a closer look at the clown, he noticed that one of its ears was missing. In replacement, a crumpled piece of paper was stuck in the hole. Pablo flattened it, trying to clean it from the blood, and a frozen ear rolled out. "This ear is your wife's; she is still alive. I'll free her and your son as soon as you give me what I want. If not, you will find some more interesting body parts coming your way. The clown still has its limbs...and its head."
Pablo paced around the room anxiously. Frustrated, he hurled the hand-woven puppet across the room, severing it into pieces and revealing the brutal image of his beloved family struggling from brute force yet enduring a sinister fate. Pablo felt the trembling of his limbs as he dropped onto the rusty floor and wept silently into the dark and desolate night.
It was not long until the bell in town stroke midnight, Pablo was jolted awake in the moonlight, with a vague flicker of a glow. As his eyelids fluttered open, branches of leaves hovered above him, swaying to the rhythm of the wind. Cautiously, Pablo ascended deeper into the woods. The town beneath him gradually faded as the fog got thicker and heavier. The sky remained dusky and hazy, whilst presenting a light shade of violet. Although it was past midnight, the chilly air did not bother him. It was the agonizing silence that blinded him. The stupidity and recklessness behind his actions dominated his senses. With an ache that could be felt from the bottom of his heart, Pablo lumbered pathetically into the desolate woods, searching for any indication of life.
The next day Pablo woke up in a cold sweat. He had a nightmare. He saw his wife and son being tortured in the most inhumane way. Their faces were distorted as their limbs were torn apart, one by one. The image of such cruelty made him sick and he knew that if he wanted to save them, he would have to give them what the person wanted. But what was it that he (assuming the person is a man) wanted? Could it be money? Could it have been the drugs? He paced back and forth in frustration. He was certain that Jose had something to do with this. Could it be that Jose had only gained his trust to later betray him?
At that moment the answer struck him. It wasn't about the money or the drugs. It was about him.
After this realization, Pablo was afraid. The only thought running through his head was to find his family and start a fresh life. He quickly packed his clothes, cash and a few boxes of cigarettes. With a surprisingly light heart, he headed over to the nearest police station and asked for Jose's address. Unexpectedly, they gave his address right away without any hesitation.
Pablo hurriedly got on a taxi and gave directions to the international airport. Apparently, Jose had moved to a different country.
"A one-way ticket to Saudi Arabia please," he asked the woman at the counter. “Here,” the woman said, handing him the ticket, “your flight is at 10.”
As Pablo waited in line at the security check, he thought about how he escaped and how his new life would be like. Pablo placed his items into the bin, but then suddenly he heard a group of people running. He quickly turned his head to see what was going on. "Oh my god,” he thought to himself, it was the police! A jumble of thoughts immediately formed in his head.
"Are they looking for me? Hm, Probably not.... No one knows that I escaped! I'm worrying for no reason," Pablo thought self-assuredly. He carried on with placing his items into the bin. All of a sudden, he felt someone grab his arm. Pablo looked up nervously and the minute he saw the shiny, gold badge of the police, he knew his hopeful life with his family was over and his real, new life had begun; in the Guatemalan Prison.
Pablo awoke to the cool morning air of Guatemala. It was still dark outside and the dim light from the moon could still be seen. Sitting on his straw bed in his jail cell, Pablo realized that he was running out of time. He dropped his gaze to the cold concrete floor which somehow resembled his future. A week ago he got a 60-year sentence for drug trafficking. When he was getting transferred to the Guatemalan prison, he tried to explain what was happening to his family. His warnings were ignored and the cops thought that he was only making excuses. He had to get out fast. At least he had to try to save his family. He stood up and started looking around his cell. The windows were impenetrable since they were protected by hard, steel bars. Looking out his window, Pablo noticed that his cell wall was at the edge of the prison. His cell was only a few stories high, so he could make it to the outer wall of the prison quite easily. The only problem was getting through the wall. He examined the bonding of the concrete bricks. A weak, old and dried up adhesive was hidden behind the white paint. He was not surprised since the prison itself was quite old. He got out a piece of paper and pencil and started writing a letter to his trusted friend Simón. He had met Simón during one of his deals and Pablo considered him to be his closest and most reliable friend. Eventually, Simón had ended up in prison-the same prison Pablo was in right now. He was sure Simón would help him. To disguise his true intentions, Pablo wrote his letter, requiring a tool to bust through a concrete wall and a small handgun, in a code that was used between drug dealers. When the sun rose, he asked one of the guards to send his letter. If all went according to plan, he would be on his way to save his family in a few days.
Two days later, a guard came to his cell and gave him a thick book. “This is from your friend...Simón, is it?” Pablo bolted out his bed. “I didn’t know that you were interested in Christianity”, the guard said as he handed the book to Pablo. It was a Bible. After the guard walked out, Pablo opened the Bible. The inside of the book was carved out, containing instead, a chisel, miniature but still highly usable, and a small black 9 mm gun. He smiled as he closed the Bible and hid it under his bed. His freedom was near.
One night after he received the bible, he finally decided to make his move. At midnight, when all the guards were asleep, he ran the chisel along the rough edges of the brick wall. Bit by bit, Pablo cut out one brick, then two, and after two hours, he had carved out a small hole big enough for him to squeeze through.
After busting out of prison, it was nearly dawn. Pablo found a police car nearby, chewed off a nail, and swiftly picked the lock with it. Quickly hot-wiring the car, Pablo was filled with adrenaline as he sped down the abandoned road at a breakneck speed.
Pablo was eager to leave Guatemala and save his family in Saudi Arabia. However, he couldn't just hop on a plane and leave. The authorities had probably been alerted of his escape and would be expecting him at the airport any minute from now. So, if he wanted to leave by plane, he would need to disguise himself and get a fake passport. Pablo knew someone in Guatemala that made some of the best counterfeit passports. Whenever he went to other countries to inspect cargo, he always made sure he knew someone who could help him get a counterfeit passport in case of emergencies. He never had to use any of his contacts, but now he was grateful for his cautious protocols. Before he went to get his counterfeit passport made, he decided to get a phone first. He went to a store, making sure that no one was following him and that the store had no cameras, and bought a phone. The minute he walked out of the store, the phone started to ring. He thought it was strange, since he had just bought the phone. Thinking that there would be no harm in answering it, he flipped it open and pressed answer. "I am watching you, don't do anything rash or your family will suffer..." a familiar, deep voice said.
"Don't touch my family! I will find you and make you pay!" Pablo yelled back, but it was too late. Whoever had been on the other end had already hung up.
"My family better not get pushed man," Pablo screamed into the phone.
Concerned for his family's safety, Pablo sprinted to his contact. When he got there, the house seemed ghastly. All the windows were dusty and some were even broken. Random thoughts appeared in Pablo's mind. "What if they got to him? What if its a trap? What if ..." but the thoughts of Pablo's loving wife and his young son gave him the courage to ring the doorbell.
"Eh Geoffrey," Pablo said in a calm voice as he pushed open the door.
"Si señor" said a man with long hair and a Spanish guitar in his hands.
“Thank god, you didn't get taken." Pablo exclaimed as he tried to embrace Geoffrey.
"What brings you to Guatemala, señor, and what I can do for you,” Geoffrey asked in an unsure tone.
“I need to get to Saudi Arabia fast, my family is in danger,” Pablo explained urgently.
“It is hard, cops are everywhere, they are all looking for you," Geoffrey exclaimed as he took a drag from his joint and a sip from his black bean soup.
"You have to help me, please, I'll do anything," Pablo begged as he went on his knees.
"Fine, I must repay you for the kindness you had given me ten years ago,” Geoffrey finally said. “Come back tomorrow, señor and I will have a fake passport for you and some make up to change your appearance." With a final huff of his joint, Geoffrey sauntered to his office and slammed the door behind him, leaving Pablo alone in the den with the faint smell of marijuana still lingering in the air.
Pablo sat down against the wall and put his head into his hands. What was he supposed to do now? The thought of his son and wife made him feel useless, as though he had failed them.
"All I had to do was keep them safe, that's all I had to do..." Pablo lamented miserably. "I had to get involved in something that I knew wasn't safe for them. And now my son, my wife... They're gone... And there's nothing I can do about it." He stood up in the grungy room, which was laced with dirt and debris and walked to the door and opened a slight crack. He looked outside at the rather deserted street. Someone came around the corner, walking confidently down the street. This man looked familiar to Pablo, who tried to get a better look at the man's face. The man turned in different directions as though he was trying to find something, or someone. When their eyes finally met, Pablo was shocked. He shut the door quickly and stayed near the wall, not daring to breathe. A few seconds, there was a knock at the door.
Pablo couldn’t believe it. If he had seen right, the man strolling down the street was Jose. The same Jose that should have been in Saudi Arabia. What was he doing here? The knocking became more frequent and more urgent.
“Answer the door will you señor,” called Geoffrey from his office and Pablo had no choice but to slowly open the cursed door.
The man who stood before him was not someone Pablo knew. It was Jose all right, but this version of Jose stood tall and radiated a sophisticated and dangerous persona. This man was not at all like the Jose Pablo had known and trusted. At first, Pablo wondered if Jose had an identical twin, but when he saw the familiar smirk on the man’s face, he knew that this was the real Jose.
“Surprised, boss?” Jose asked, drawling the last word with a sarcastic tone.
Pablo had trouble swallowing and made no effort to speak. Seeing the fear in Pablo’s eyes, Jose laughed and stepped into the house, locking the door.
“Who’s there? Señor, did you let someone in without my permission,” Geoffrey called from his office. “Let me see what company you’ve brought. Perhaps we can have a few shots together,” he added merrily.
Pablo wanted to shout for him to stop, to do anything except open the door, but he was too late. Geoffrey swung open the door with a bright smile and looked around the room. Before Pablo could even react, Jose swiftly reached into his belt and brought out a small handgun. Quick as a flash, he fired several shots into the surprised man’s chest. Geoffrey fell to the ground with a ghostly smile that would be forever frozen on his face.
“Old man said he wanted several shots,” Jose chuckled to a horrified Pablo. “Although I must admit I owe it to him for finding you. His name was conveniently on your personal contact list and I figured you would need a fake passport to be going anywhere.”
“What do you want? Wh-wh-why are you doing this to me Jose? I thought we were friends,” Pablo stammered, his voice hoarse as a result of his inability to swallow.
“Friends?!” Jose threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Diego Jose Sanchez. Former member of Los Martinez Cartel.”
The name sounded oddly familiar to Pablo. Suddenly, he remembered-Los Martinez Cartel (LMC); Carlos’ gang name! Once Pablo had taken over, he had changed the name to La Comochos Cartel (LCC).
“I don’t understand,” Pablo said slowly, “you once worked for Carlos? Are here to avenge him?” Pablo’s voice broke at the end.
“Avenge Carlos,” Jose repeated as though the idea seemed to amuse him, “oh no my dear Pablo. I’m here for you. You see, the first time we met was in fact eight years ago, when you were escaping for your life.”
Pablo’s mind raced, tracing back all those years. Finally, Pablo recalled the incident. He was racing across the desert when he was stopped by a man in a black bandanna. The man had been introducing himself as Sanchez, Diego Jo-- before he was interrupted by the arrival of Carlos. Realization dawned upon Pablo and he staggered back in surprise.
“You-you- the guy in black,” Pablo said, pointing a shaking finger at Jose.
“Yes, that was me,”agreed Jose. “I was Carlos’ right man at that time, but I was unhappy following his orders. I was always on the lookout, waiting for an opening for me to step in.” Pablo nodded silently, thinking back on his own ambitious goals. “For a time, I secretly observed everything Carlos did and kept track of his recruits. I especially had my eye on you since I saw definite potential. When Carlos decided to dispose you, I knew this was the perfect opportunity and I tried to take you in and start a new gang. Unfortunately my planned failed and Carlos caught up. He realized that you had talent when I decided to keep you. I was his strategist, his brain, so of course, he highly valued my ideas. When he brought you under his wing, he immediately made sure I was taken care of. My wife, kids and friends were all assassinated and he stripped me of all my money. I would have been killed, but I still had one friend who managed to smuggle me somewhere safe. I lived in the sewers for years, feeding off rats, while you were living luxuriously and even managed to start your own cartel gang. All that happened for you because of me; if I had never taken an interest in you, Carlos would have finished you right away. So now, Pablo Comocho, I am here to take back what was originally mine.”
Jose reached into his pocket and brought out a picture of Pablo’s family. Pablo whimpered as he recognized the image from his dreams; their faces distorted with pain and their limbs jutting out at awkward angles.
“Your family will never replace mine, but I guess I’ll have to make do. Sorry about the little-ah-disarrangement of their bodies, but I thought that they should at least look like how I found my family that night. But now, Pablo Comocho, it’s time for you to die.”
Blood rushed to Pablo’s face and he had never felt this furious before in his life. All the sympathy he had before for the man vanished and was replaced by pure hatred.
“It’s one thing to mess with me, but another thing to mess with my family,” he growled.
Jose smirked and reached for his gun, “Let’s see who wins then.”
Pablo decided that if this was a choice between life or death, he would gladly choose the latter. He took a deep breath, thought of his family, closed his eyes and charged.
-Epilogue-
A few days later, the police were called to investigate a house that local residents claimed to be suspiciously empty. This was strange for the jolly old Spaniard that lived up the street, reported neighbors, since every evening he would come out onto the porch and play his Spanish guitar. However, recently, his house had remained silent for days. The police slowly started up the porch stairs and cautiously opened the door. The air inside the house was stuffy and uncomfortable. The police further ventured into the house and and they were met with a scene that none of them could bear to describe when they were later on interviewed. Inside the destroyed den, were the ruins of three unmistakable, broken bodies of three dead men.
It was a drizzling, wet night for the border guards at the Mexican-US border. Most of the other patrol guards were sleeping comfortably in their dorms, but Pablo Comocho was wide awake for his night shift. He was a man of Mexican descent; however, during the Mexican-American war, his ancestors found themselves in the U.S. and decided to settle down in California. This is why Pablo's mother was American; his dad, Mexican. His parents met at a restaurant called Las Magaritas in Los Angeles where his father had worked as a waiter. They later on got married and moved to San Diego where Pablo's father worked in the restaurant industry. As a child, Pablo was fascinated by the Mexican-US border, and his dream was to become a border guard when he grew up. Now that his dream had been realized, he has started to seriously regret thinking that this would be a good job as he struggles to support his wife and son.
"Low pay and long work hours," Pablo thought miserably. "The only reason I risk my life everyday to transport the goods across the border is the 10,000 dollars I get to support my family."
Six months ago, a Mexican drug cartel leader contacted him and asked if he wanted to help them smuggle crates of marijuana and other drugs across the border. Pablo agreed on the terms that he gets 10,000 dollars for every time he succeeds in smuggling the drugs. "Come to the underground shack two kilometers from the border every time you get a call from this number," the cartel leader had told him a few days ago. "And make sure you aren't followed."
Pablo made his way into his black, four wheel-drive land-rover in the garage and started the engine. Then, he got off and walked around for ten minutes to make sure no one was around. When Pablo knew that the coast was clear, he jumped back into the car and drove off into the Mexican desert. After a few minutes, he arrived at the rocky hill that was the landmark for the drug shack. He got off and walked to the hidden manhole cover and crept down the ladder. Inside the tiny, six by five meters room, two boxes were stacked neatly on top of each other. On one of the boxes, some white powdery stuff had fallen out. "Coke this time, eh," Pablo remarked to himself. On the table, a post-it note was stuck on a large wad of cash. "Good luck :)" it said. "Yeah, I'll need it," Pablo thought. He quickly transported the two crates out onto his car and came back into the shack for his money. As he pulled off the post-it note, something on the back caught his eye. "You are no longer trustworthy, we do not need you any longer."
Suddenly, he heard the sound of helicopter blades in the distance, getting louder and louder. Pablo's blood turned to ice, but he knew he had to move, to run, or he would be caught by the people coming to arrest him. As fast as a cheetah, he zoomed up the ladder, no longer caring about his money, and rushed to his car. He pushed the two boxes out of the trunk and drove as fast as he could, stomping on the gas and into the Chihuahuan desert. "I can't be caught, my family needs me," he said to himself. "I can't be caught and sent to the Pavon Prison!"
Speeding along the barren land, Pablo glanced at his rearview mirror and spotted a black SUV tailing him in the distance. However, this car didn't look like a police car. And why would the police bother chasing him in a car when they had helicopters searching for him? He eased the pressure on the gas pedal and let the other car catch up. When the car finally caught up, the driver rolled down his window.
"My boss wanted to dispose you, but I thought otherwise," the driver said. "You have talent." Pablo tried to get a closer look at the driver, but the man’s face was covered with a black bandanna. The driver continued introducing himself, “The name’s Sanchez, Diego Jo-” A shattering noise close by interrupted their conversation. As Pablo ducked inside his car to safety, the Mexican driver drove off. Pablo looked into his rearview mirror and saw a crimson splat on the other car's windshield.
Pablo panicked. As he glanced at his rapidly dropping gas meter, he hastily pulled out his SWAT mini-k from under the driver's seat. Letting his car slowly roll to a stop, Pablo stepped out of his car and pointed the gun to his forehead.
"Don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Don't touch me. Don't even think about it." Pablo spat out, "Or I will shoot myself."
When the car approached from the distance, it started to slow down. Pablo was sweating hard, not knowing what to do. There were so many things racing through his head at once: his family, the gun, the dropping gas meter, and so on. Eventually, the car came to a stop, and the door slowly opened. Pablo wasn't able to stand still. Against his will, his feet did a little hop as if the ground was a bit too hot for him to stand on. His two fingers were frozen on the lever, hesitating and numb from fear. Suddenly, a man in a silver suit, with thick dark eyebrows, and dark curly hair got out and stood in front of him in silence. Pablo didn't realize that the helicopter had disappeared and was nowhere to be seen. The man in the silver suit reached out his hand, and spoke in a deep husky voice. "Impressive. You could've given up, and spoken the truth, but you refused. I was testing you to see if you could be trusted, and you've just showed me that you are trustworthy. I am the boss. Name's Carlos, James Carlos." Slowly, but steadily, Pablo lowered his gun and shook James's hand.
After this little "test" from Carlos, Pablo had gained the trust of the drug dealers. Now he was getting $20,000 dollars for each trade he made. His wife was curious at first about how he was getting so much money in such a short period of time, but when Pablo told her that he got a raise, she happily believed him.
Pablo was no longer worried about money anymore, and an idea had started to form in his head. 'Why can't I be the Boss," he thought, "I don't want to work for others anymore." However, he continued to work for Carlos, but with an eye open for any chance to take over.
About a month later, his opportunity came. Carlos had told him to deliver ten boxes of coke from Mexico to USA. Since this was a big deal, Carlos decided to stay with Pablo. On their way, Pablo took out his Glock18 and shot Carlos. He then hastily buried Carlos' body in the desert and took off with the coke.
Two days later, Carlos' dead body was found in the desert. The police confirmed that Carlos was the criminal they had been searching for over the past nine years. They were suspicious of his death and knew that it was not suicidal. At first, they thought that Carlos was murdered by enemy drug dealers, but they later reasoned that a professional drug dealer would have at least buried the dead body deep enough so that no one would see it. They also thought that Carlos would have been well protected and would not have exposed himself to such dangerous people. Thus, they came to the conclusion that the murderer had to be an amateur and a well trusted companion of Carlos. However, since no evidence was found, the police were forced to temporally discontinue their investigation.
- Seven Years Later-
Seven years have passed since the death of Carlos and the police have not found any more clues regarding this murder case.
For Pablo, life was good. He had been dealing drugs for the past seven years and his earnings were increasing each year. His business was successful and he was greatly satisfied. Everything was going great until the day everything messed up.
It was just another ordinary business day and Pablo had hired a few trusted assistants to do his work. Out of these assistants, one bright and young man stood out. His name was Jose.
Pablo regarded Jose as his right man. Jose always seemed to know what Pablo was thinking and wanted. He was also loyal and faithful; during one of their many gang fights, Jose had taken a bullet for Pablo, thus gaining his respect and unwavering trust.
However, since the morning, Pablo had been noticing Jose's unrest. Nevertheless, Pablo decided it was nothing and took no action.
After lunch, Pablo received a call from his wife. "Pablo, this morning a man knocked on our door and our son accidentally opened it. The man gave him a creepy looking clown puppet and there was a message on the back that said: 'You will get your revenge one day'. What does it mean? Darling, what happened? Please tell me!"
“Wait, what?” Pablo suddenly felt a cold sweat break out all over his body. He swallowed nervously and forced himself to calmly reply, "Oh don't worry honey, nothing's wrong. It's probably just someone's sick, annoying joke. "
"Pablo dear, you're hesitating. Please, don't hold back and tell me what's really going on! Tell me everything you've been hiding from me! There's no reason why a stranger would knock on our door and give our son a strange looking doll with a threatening message on the back! Something is definitely wrong! If you don't want to spill, then please-just don't get our innocent son hurt!" Ms. Comocho's voice broke at the end of the sentence and Pablo could hear the despair his wife was feeling.
Pablo's mind raced, trying to think of an excuse. He took a deep breath and replied, "Everything is fine, please don't overreact. I'm done talking about this." Pablo hung up the phone and sat back down with an anguished sigh. Who would do such a thing and what was their motive? He was certain that it had something to do with Carlos, but that was seven years ago. So why now?
Pablo took the pistol that had killed Carlos several years ago from his desk. Tucking the weapon in his belt, he looked around with an angry glint in his eyes. Whoever this person was or wanted, Pablo was determined to stop his family from getting involved or worse, hurt.
Pablo quickly returned home, planning to carefully assess the puppet for himself. When he got home, he found the door wide open. With bad premonition, he rushed into the house, frantically searching every room and found no one in the house. His heart thumping, Pablo went back out and took a deep breath. "Calm down," he said to himself. "There is no evidence of a struggle and no bloodstains around here. They just need something from me and that's all.”
He sat down on the couch, facing the kitchen. People were probably dragged around, taken against their will, but everything was left untouched, or so Pablo thought. The only unusual thing was the door, it was open; and of course, his family was gone. He couldn't help but wonder: What did they want? Did they want his life, revenge for his responsibility of Carlos's end? Or was it just another drug cartel, wanting to take Pablo down? Then Jose came to his mind. He remembered him being uneasy about something, but what? He didn't know. He tried to find a connection between Jose's loyalty (or fake loyalty) and the kidnapping of his family. He kept thinking until a sudden bang on the window awoke him from his trance. He quickly turned and saw a hooded figure running from the window. Jumping from the couch, he rushed across the room to the window. The sight before him made him want to hurl. A clown puppet, smeared with blood was slowly slide down the window and fell to the ground with a thump. Pablo ran out of the house to get a better look at it. As he got a closer look at the clown, he noticed that one of its ears was missing. In replacement, a crumpled piece of paper was stuck in the hole. Pablo flattened it, trying to clean it from the blood, and a frozen ear rolled out. "This ear is your wife's; she is still alive. I'll free her and your son as soon as you give me what I want. If not, you will find some more interesting body parts coming your way. The clown still has its limbs...and its head."
Pablo paced around the room anxiously. Frustrated, he hurled the hand-woven puppet across the room, severing it into pieces and revealing the brutal image of his beloved family struggling from brute force yet enduring a sinister fate. Pablo felt the trembling of his limbs as he dropped onto the rusty floor and wept silently into the dark and desolate night.
It was not long until the bell in town stroke midnight, Pablo was jolted awake in the moonlight, with a vague flicker of a glow. As his eyelids fluttered open, branches of leaves hovered above him, swaying to the rhythm of the wind. Cautiously, Pablo ascended deeper into the woods. The town beneath him gradually faded as the fog got thicker and heavier. The sky remained dusky and hazy, whilst presenting a light shade of violet. Although it was past midnight, the chilly air did not bother him. It was the agonizing silence that blinded him. The stupidity and recklessness behind his actions dominated his senses. With an ache that could be felt from the bottom of his heart, Pablo lumbered pathetically into the desolate woods, searching for any indication of life.
The next day Pablo woke up in a cold sweat. He had a nightmare. He saw his wife and son being tortured in the most inhumane way. Their faces were distorted as their limbs were torn apart, one by one. The image of such cruelty made him sick and he knew that if he wanted to save them, he would have to give them what the person wanted. But what was it that he (assuming the person is a man) wanted? Could it be money? Could it have been the drugs? He paced back and forth in frustration. He was certain that Jose had something to do with this. Could it be that Jose had only gained his trust to later betray him?
At that moment the answer struck him. It wasn't about the money or the drugs. It was about him.
After this realization, Pablo was afraid. The only thought running through his head was to find his family and start a fresh life. He quickly packed his clothes, cash and a few boxes of cigarettes. With a surprisingly light heart, he headed over to the nearest police station and asked for Jose's address. Unexpectedly, they gave his address right away without any hesitation.
Pablo hurriedly got on a taxi and gave directions to the international airport. Apparently, Jose had moved to a different country.
"A one-way ticket to Saudi Arabia please," he asked the woman at the counter. “Here,” the woman said, handing him the ticket, “your flight is at 10.”
As Pablo waited in line at the security check, he thought about how he escaped and how his new life would be like. Pablo placed his items into the bin, but then suddenly he heard a group of people running. He quickly turned his head to see what was going on. "Oh my god,” he thought to himself, it was the police! A jumble of thoughts immediately formed in his head.
"Are they looking for me? Hm, Probably not.... No one knows that I escaped! I'm worrying for no reason," Pablo thought self-assuredly. He carried on with placing his items into the bin. All of a sudden, he felt someone grab his arm. Pablo looked up nervously and the minute he saw the shiny, gold badge of the police, he knew his hopeful life with his family was over and his real, new life had begun; in the Guatemalan Prison.
Pablo awoke to the cool morning air of Guatemala. It was still dark outside and the dim light from the moon could still be seen. Sitting on his straw bed in his jail cell, Pablo realized that he was running out of time. He dropped his gaze to the cold concrete floor which somehow resembled his future. A week ago he got a 60-year sentence for drug trafficking. When he was getting transferred to the Guatemalan prison, he tried to explain what was happening to his family. His warnings were ignored and the cops thought that he was only making excuses. He had to get out fast. At least he had to try to save his family. He stood up and started looking around his cell. The windows were impenetrable since they were protected by hard, steel bars. Looking out his window, Pablo noticed that his cell wall was at the edge of the prison. His cell was only a few stories high, so he could make it to the outer wall of the prison quite easily. The only problem was getting through the wall. He examined the bonding of the concrete bricks. A weak, old and dried up adhesive was hidden behind the white paint. He was not surprised since the prison itself was quite old. He got out a piece of paper and pencil and started writing a letter to his trusted friend Simón. He had met Simón during one of his deals and Pablo considered him to be his closest and most reliable friend. Eventually, Simón had ended up in prison-the same prison Pablo was in right now. He was sure Simón would help him. To disguise his true intentions, Pablo wrote his letter, requiring a tool to bust through a concrete wall and a small handgun, in a code that was used between drug dealers. When the sun rose, he asked one of the guards to send his letter. If all went according to plan, he would be on his way to save his family in a few days.
Two days later, a guard came to his cell and gave him a thick book. “This is from your friend...Simón, is it?” Pablo bolted out his bed. “I didn’t know that you were interested in Christianity”, the guard said as he handed the book to Pablo. It was a Bible. After the guard walked out, Pablo opened the Bible. The inside of the book was carved out, containing instead, a chisel, miniature but still highly usable, and a small black 9 mm gun. He smiled as he closed the Bible and hid it under his bed. His freedom was near.
One night after he received the bible, he finally decided to make his move. At midnight, when all the guards were asleep, he ran the chisel along the rough edges of the brick wall. Bit by bit, Pablo cut out one brick, then two, and after two hours, he had carved out a small hole big enough for him to squeeze through.
After busting out of prison, it was nearly dawn. Pablo found a police car nearby, chewed off a nail, and swiftly picked the lock with it. Quickly hot-wiring the car, Pablo was filled with adrenaline as he sped down the abandoned road at a breakneck speed.
Pablo was eager to leave Guatemala and save his family in Saudi Arabia. However, he couldn't just hop on a plane and leave. The authorities had probably been alerted of his escape and would be expecting him at the airport any minute from now. So, if he wanted to leave by plane, he would need to disguise himself and get a fake passport. Pablo knew someone in Guatemala that made some of the best counterfeit passports. Whenever he went to other countries to inspect cargo, he always made sure he knew someone who could help him get a counterfeit passport in case of emergencies. He never had to use any of his contacts, but now he was grateful for his cautious protocols. Before he went to get his counterfeit passport made, he decided to get a phone first. He went to a store, making sure that no one was following him and that the store had no cameras, and bought a phone. The minute he walked out of the store, the phone started to ring. He thought it was strange, since he had just bought the phone. Thinking that there would be no harm in answering it, he flipped it open and pressed answer. "I am watching you, don't do anything rash or your family will suffer..." a familiar, deep voice said.
"Don't touch my family! I will find you and make you pay!" Pablo yelled back, but it was too late. Whoever had been on the other end had already hung up.
"My family better not get pushed man," Pablo screamed into the phone.
Concerned for his family's safety, Pablo sprinted to his contact. When he got there, the house seemed ghastly. All the windows were dusty and some were even broken. Random thoughts appeared in Pablo's mind. "What if they got to him? What if its a trap? What if ..." but the thoughts of Pablo's loving wife and his young son gave him the courage to ring the doorbell.
"Eh Geoffrey," Pablo said in a calm voice as he pushed open the door.
"Si señor" said a man with long hair and a Spanish guitar in his hands.
“Thank god, you didn't get taken." Pablo exclaimed as he tried to embrace Geoffrey.
"What brings you to Guatemala, señor, and what I can do for you,” Geoffrey asked in an unsure tone.
“I need to get to Saudi Arabia fast, my family is in danger,” Pablo explained urgently.
“It is hard, cops are everywhere, they are all looking for you," Geoffrey exclaimed as he took a drag from his joint and a sip from his black bean soup.
"You have to help me, please, I'll do anything," Pablo begged as he went on his knees.
"Fine, I must repay you for the kindness you had given me ten years ago,” Geoffrey finally said. “Come back tomorrow, señor and I will have a fake passport for you and some make up to change your appearance." With a final huff of his joint, Geoffrey sauntered to his office and slammed the door behind him, leaving Pablo alone in the den with the faint smell of marijuana still lingering in the air.
Pablo sat down against the wall and put his head into his hands. What was he supposed to do now? The thought of his son and wife made him feel useless, as though he had failed them.
"All I had to do was keep them safe, that's all I had to do..." Pablo lamented miserably. "I had to get involved in something that I knew wasn't safe for them. And now my son, my wife... They're gone... And there's nothing I can do about it." He stood up in the grungy room, which was laced with dirt and debris and walked to the door and opened a slight crack. He looked outside at the rather deserted street. Someone came around the corner, walking confidently down the street. This man looked familiar to Pablo, who tried to get a better look at the man's face. The man turned in different directions as though he was trying to find something, or someone. When their eyes finally met, Pablo was shocked. He shut the door quickly and stayed near the wall, not daring to breathe. A few seconds, there was a knock at the door.
Pablo couldn’t believe it. If he had seen right, the man strolling down the street was Jose. The same Jose that should have been in Saudi Arabia. What was he doing here? The knocking became more frequent and more urgent.
“Answer the door will you señor,” called Geoffrey from his office and Pablo had no choice but to slowly open the cursed door.
The man who stood before him was not someone Pablo knew. It was Jose all right, but this version of Jose stood tall and radiated a sophisticated and dangerous persona. This man was not at all like the Jose Pablo had known and trusted. At first, Pablo wondered if Jose had an identical twin, but when he saw the familiar smirk on the man’s face, he knew that this was the real Jose.
“Surprised, boss?” Jose asked, drawling the last word with a sarcastic tone.
Pablo had trouble swallowing and made no effort to speak. Seeing the fear in Pablo’s eyes, Jose laughed and stepped into the house, locking the door.
“Who’s there? Señor, did you let someone in without my permission,” Geoffrey called from his office. “Let me see what company you’ve brought. Perhaps we can have a few shots together,” he added merrily.
Pablo wanted to shout for him to stop, to do anything except open the door, but he was too late. Geoffrey swung open the door with a bright smile and looked around the room. Before Pablo could even react, Jose swiftly reached into his belt and brought out a small handgun. Quick as a flash, he fired several shots into the surprised man’s chest. Geoffrey fell to the ground with a ghostly smile that would be forever frozen on his face.
“Old man said he wanted several shots,” Jose chuckled to a horrified Pablo. “Although I must admit I owe it to him for finding you. His name was conveniently on your personal contact list and I figured you would need a fake passport to be going anywhere.”
“What do you want? Wh-wh-why are you doing this to me Jose? I thought we were friends,” Pablo stammered, his voice hoarse as a result of his inability to swallow.
“Friends?!” Jose threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Diego Jose Sanchez. Former member of Los Martinez Cartel.”
The name sounded oddly familiar to Pablo. Suddenly, he remembered-Los Martinez Cartel (LMC); Carlos’ gang name! Once Pablo had taken over, he had changed the name to La Comochos Cartel (LCC).
“I don’t understand,” Pablo said slowly, “you once worked for Carlos? Are here to avenge him?” Pablo’s voice broke at the end.
“Avenge Carlos,” Jose repeated as though the idea seemed to amuse him, “oh no my dear Pablo. I’m here for you. You see, the first time we met was in fact eight years ago, when you were escaping for your life.”
Pablo’s mind raced, tracing back all those years. Finally, Pablo recalled the incident. He was racing across the desert when he was stopped by a man in a black bandanna. The man had been introducing himself as Sanchez, Diego Jo-- before he was interrupted by the arrival of Carlos. Realization dawned upon Pablo and he staggered back in surprise.
“You-you- the guy in black,” Pablo said, pointing a shaking finger at Jose.
“Yes, that was me,”agreed Jose. “I was Carlos’ right man at that time, but I was unhappy following his orders. I was always on the lookout, waiting for an opening for me to step in.” Pablo nodded silently, thinking back on his own ambitious goals. “For a time, I secretly observed everything Carlos did and kept track of his recruits. I especially had my eye on you since I saw definite potential. When Carlos decided to dispose you, I knew this was the perfect opportunity and I tried to take you in and start a new gang. Unfortunately my planned failed and Carlos caught up. He realized that you had talent when I decided to keep you. I was his strategist, his brain, so of course, he highly valued my ideas. When he brought you under his wing, he immediately made sure I was taken care of. My wife, kids and friends were all assassinated and he stripped me of all my money. I would have been killed, but I still had one friend who managed to smuggle me somewhere safe. I lived in the sewers for years, feeding off rats, while you were living luxuriously and even managed to start your own cartel gang. All that happened for you because of me; if I had never taken an interest in you, Carlos would have finished you right away. So now, Pablo Comocho, I am here to take back what was originally mine.”
Jose reached into his pocket and brought out a picture of Pablo’s family. Pablo whimpered as he recognized the image from his dreams; their faces distorted with pain and their limbs jutting out at awkward angles.
“Your family will never replace mine, but I guess I’ll have to make do. Sorry about the little-ah-disarrangement of their bodies, but I thought that they should at least look like how I found my family that night. But now, Pablo Comocho, it’s time for you to die.”
Blood rushed to Pablo’s face and he had never felt this furious before in his life. All the sympathy he had before for the man vanished and was replaced by pure hatred.
“It’s one thing to mess with me, but another thing to mess with my family,” he growled.
Jose smirked and reached for his gun, “Let’s see who wins then.”
Pablo decided that if this was a choice between life or death, he would gladly choose the latter. He took a deep breath, thought of his family, closed his eyes and charged.
-Epilogue-
A few days later, the police were called to investigate a house that local residents claimed to be suspiciously empty. This was strange for the jolly old Spaniard that lived up the street, reported neighbors, since every evening he would come out onto the porch and play his Spanish guitar. However, recently, his house had remained silent for days. The police slowly started up the porch stairs and cautiously opened the door. The air inside the house was stuffy and uncomfortable. The police further ventured into the house and and they were met with a scene that none of them could bear to describe when they were later on interviewed. Inside the destroyed den, were the ruins of three unmistakable, broken bodies of three dead men.